Apple Blossom Time
by BlueStrawberries
Summary: The von Trapps enjoy an Easter break
1. Default Chapter

**A/N:** This story assumes the Anschluss has happened but Georg has not yet received his commission from the German Navy.

Apple Blossom Time Friday 

A cool breeze rippled though the sheer curtains, prompting Maria to snuggle closer to her sea captain. Georg responded by tightening his arm protectively around her back, a faint grin passing over his sleepy features. Though nearly Easter, the night wind bore the icy traces of winter, causing him to pull the rumpled blankets up over his sleeping Baroness. Kissing the base of his neck in response, Maria smiled gently as they drifted off to sleep once more.

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Three hours later, Georg shifted momentarily, the fresh light from the window penetrating his sleep. Blinking awake, he smiled instinctively at the lovely view before him: Maria asleep, her breathing peaceful as a child's, her hair mussed on the cream pillow. He leaned over gently to caress her cheek, marvelling yet again at their marriage. God had truly blest him, Georg reflected, by giving him Maria. She who had brought him back his wonderful children, shone light into the once gloomy corridors of his heart…she who was now awake and gazing up at him with a cheerful smile.

'Good morning, darling,' he greeted her with a kiss that quickly grew deeper. Turning over fully, Georg carefully rested his body on hers, smoothing out her hair on the pillow.

'Good morning,' replied Maria demurely, extracting her lips unwillingly. 'Did you, uh, sleep well…?' she added teasingly, stroking his back as he nuzzled closer.

'Very well, actually, Baroness,' he replied casually, planting little kisses on her neck. 'Despite the attempts of a certain woman to keep me awake…'

'Oh, really?' asked Maria with mock concern, 'such sleep deprivation must have been a most unpleasant experience…,' she giggled as he captured her mouth once more.

'Very unpleasant,' muttered Georg, tilting her towards him as his desire increased. 'So unpleasant that I might be forced to endure it again…,' he murmured, as the sun rose higher in the sky, bathing the room with shimmering light from the lake.

Later - much later - Maria reached up to tenderly brush away a stray lock of hair from her husand's forehead.

'I love you,' he told her devotedly, the atmosphere having deepened as they lay peacefully in each other's arms.

'I love you, too,' she murmured, stroking his chest thoughtfully. They gazed into each other's eyes, words suddenly seeming inadequate in conveying their emotion.

Regretfully breaking the silence, Maria said quietly, 'I suppose it's time for us to get up.'

'Unfortunately,' replied Georg with a groan, propping himself on his elbow. 'I'll go first,' he whispered, planting a quick kiss on her forehead before rolling out of bed to shrug on a dressing gown. Watching his tall frame disappear into the bathroom, Maria smiled contentedly, looking forward to her first Easter in the von Trapp household.

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'Mother,' piped up Gretl as she tried to open the top of her egg, 'is it a very long drive to Italy?'

'No, Gretl, it's not that far at all,' replied Maria with a smile, 'we'll set off early tomorrow morning and should be in Venice by lunch.'

'That's a long time in the car with Louisa's insects,' muttered Friedrich, hoping to provoke his sister.

'But Louisa will not be bringing any insects, _will she_,' interjected Georg swiftly, turning meaningfully towards his scowling daughter.

'No, father,' she replied sedately as Kurt snorted in disbelief, almost choking on his scrambled eggs.

Quickly exchanging an amused grin with Georg as she helped Gretl with her egg, Maria glanced towards Liesl, who was unusally quiet.

'Is everything alright?' she asked kindly.

'Just fair,' replied the girl quietly, sipping her Apfelsaft. In truth, she was feeling quite despondent – there had been no telegrams at all lately and she was worried that Rolf had found some other girl who lived closer to him in Salzburg.

Making a mental note to find out what was troubling Liesl later, Maria felt Marta tugging at her sleeve.

'Mother, what's Venice like?' the little girl asked excitedly, having been eagerly looking forward to the holiday since her Father had announced it last week.

'Well, I don't know, dear,' replied Maria, 'I've never been to Italy. Your father has though…' she turned towards Georg, having heard of his exploits along the Istrian coastline during the War.

'It's very beautiful, Marta,' he said, smiling. 'The whole city is built on a network of canals,' he explained, 'and if people want to travel from one place to another they have to go by boat, just as we'd take the car.'

'Gondolas,' inserted Brigitta knowledgably, having been buried in Baedecker's travel guide as soon as she heard of the holiday. She felt almost as thrilled as her little sisters to be going away, and once more gave silent thanks that Fräulein Maria was her mother as Father would never have contemplated such a trip a year ago.

Setting down his napkin, Georg sighed contentedly as he finished the dregs of his coffee. It was a wonderful idea to take the children away during their Easter break, he reflected: they would enjoy a holiday to celebrate Maria's entry into the family, having been excluded from the honeymoon for obvious reasons. Wiping away a smug grin at the thought of those Paris days, Georg snapped out of his reverie.

' – need to be packed by this evening so that Franz can put our things in the car,' Maria was telling the children, as she rose from the table, holding Gretl and Marta's hands.

Following his chattering family out into the hall, Georg turned to Maria whom he observed looked radiant in a simple light blue skirt and white blouse.

'Uh…talking of unpacking…I think I'll need some help with that this afternoon,' he murmured huskily, causing a deep flush to spring to her cheeks. And, patting a bemused Marta on the head, he strode towards his study to deal with the morning's correspondence, a low chuckle emanating from his chest.

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	2. A Drive to Remember

Saturday Morning 

After much packing and unpacking – not least on the part of Georg and Maria – the family were at last crammed into the de luxe Saloon, the youngest girls at the front with their parents, the five eldest squashed into the back.

_This is going to be a long drive_, thought Georg wryly, wondering how many times Friedrich and Louisa would spark each other off during the 250 miles to Venice. Smoothy releasing the clutch, he exchanged a dry smile with Maria, once more relishing her soothing presence.

'Wait!' squealed Brigitta suddenly, climbing over Kurt towards the door. 'I've forgotten my book!'

'-Er, you've already got about ten in your suitcase,' muttered Louisa as she ran inside; even though it was very early she felt the strong urge to kick Friedrich for his tuneless humming of _My Favourite Things_.

'What book is Brigitta looking for?' Liesl asked, directing her question towards her brother in the hope of halting his inane droning, which had now transformed into a somewhat squeaky version of _Edelweiss._

'Uhm, I'm not sure,' he mumbled with a yawn, as Maria replied from the front, 'I think it was Robert Musil,' vaguely remembering such a book on Brigitta's bedside table.

'Musil,' noted Georg with satisfaction, 'she has good taste.' The writer's themes of a dying European culture were, he reflected, particularly relevant in the light of contemporary politics…Brushing such unsavoury thoughts aside, he turned to Maria and smiled as she wrapped her arms tighter around Gretl, asleep on her lap.

'At last,' groaned Kurt as Brigitta clambered into the car, book in hand, causing her siblings to squash even closer together on the brown leather seat.

'Well…Venice here were come,' said Georg, sweeping the car quickly though the front gates before any more of his children realised they had forgotten an essential item of luggage.

Maria smiled as the car approached the outskirts of Salzburg, watching the sun rise over the meadows of the Untersburg. As the children chattered in the back, her gaze instinctively drifted towards her husband, quickly becoming captivated by the way his hand rested masterfully on the wheel, the faint smile playing about the corners of his mouth.

Unable to resist contact, she reached her hand across sleeping Gretl and Marta to caress the crook of his arm, causing him to groan incoherently. Kurt and Louisa were discussing the relative merits of lasagne and Wiener schnitzel too loudly for this to be heard in the back, however, and Georg responded by gently covering Maria's hand with his. Unable to prevent herself from blushing at the simple touch, she gave him a dazzling smile, causing him considerable difficulty in concentrating on the road ahead.

'I seem to remember driving past you climbing trees,' Georg said softly so as not to wake Marta or Gretl.

'Oh yes,' said Maria, smiling at the memory. 'When the children were out of uniform…,' she teased gently.

'I think you rightly referred to them as 'straightjackets', said Georg, reflecting for the umpteenth time how stupid his treatment of the children had been.

'I was far too outspoken,' said Maria contemplatively, staring out at Salzburg's main thoroughfare.

'-who's far too outspoken?' interjected Brigitta from the back, just as Georg was about to commend Maria on her frankness during that painful argument.

'You are,' said Friedrich immediately, having grown bored of listening to Kurt and Louisa's gastronomic bickering.

'Sssh,' said Maria, not wanting the little girls to be woken. 'Why don't we play a quiet game…like 'I spy'?' she suggested quickly before dissent could break out over possible games.

'I'll go first,' said Liesl enthusiastically, pleased at the opportunity of diverting her thoughts from Rolfe. 'Erm… I spy with my little eye something beginning with "h".'

'Hairdressers?' guessed Brigitta.

'House?'

'Headlamps,' the others joined in.

'Hamster?'

'Er, just where exactly would she have seen a hamster, Kurt,' Louisa said sarcastically.

'I just saw one…' he replied indignantly.

'Hotel,' said Georg lowly, smiling at all the connotations of Paris the word held.

'What did you guess, Father?' said Liesl.

'Hotel,' he repeated with a quick glance at Maria as he accelerated onto the main Autobahn towards Italy.

'Well done, you're right' said Leisl, 'it's your turn to guess now.'

Glimpsing a black car with little red flags in his rear view mirror, Georg said icily, 'Unfortunately, I spy something beginning with 'I' - an imbecile by the name of Zeller.' His jaw tightened upon seeing the Gauleiter signal for the car to pull over, which he did with an angry skid of the brakes.

'Stay calm, Georg, please,' warned Maria as Herr Zeller approached the Saloon, a sycophantic Karl in tow.

'Don't worry, Maria, I'll deal with this,' said Georg curtly, slamming the door behind him as he got out to confront Herr Zeller on the roadside. Worriedly lifting Gretl off her lap, Maria also exited the car, with a quick reminder to the anxious children to remain quiet.

'Driving a little fast, were we not Captain?' said Zeller with a gleeful raise of his eyebrows. 'Trying to escape from something…or someone?'

'Why should I wish to escape when sharing the road with such, er, _pleasant_ motorists?' said Georg sarcastically, eyeing the undersized man as one might a particularly filthy toad.

'I understand you're going on holiday to Italy,' said Zeller, 'therefore I would like to see your passports,' he added, holding out a mottled hand.

'I was under the impression, Herr Zeller, that travelling arrangements in Austria are private…at least the Austria I know,' replied Georg furiously, his eyes snapping fire.

'You may be assured that we'll provide all the necessary documents at the Border' said Maria, stepping between the two men in the hope of diffusing the situation.

'Very well,' said Zeller, 'I shall let the Italians deal with you, it'll lessen my workload anyway.'

'Ah, yes, your workload,' said Georg with false politeness, 'I imagine it must be a tiring job, terrorising innocent people.'

'Such comments will not be tolerated in the New Order,' called Zeller as the couple turned towards the car. 'You in particular, Captain, will be expected to fill a proper role in the workings of the Third Reich.'

'Just as you have done so admirably, Herr Zeller?'

'Your praise is heartwarming, Captain.'

'Oh, forgive me,' said Georg climbing into the car, 'it was meant to be scornful.' And, stepping on the accelerator so forcefully that the car sped forward, he left the local Gauleiter coughing profusely in a cloud of dust.

'Verdammt noch mal!' snapped Georg as they sped down the Tyrollean Autobahn. 'Schwachsinnige!' he added under his breath, angry that the Nazi had intruded on their family holiday.

'Father's saying bad words,' giggled Marta as the rest of the children grinned in the back, having been eavesdropping eagerly on the conversation with Herr Zeller. Even Maria had to chuckle; she could not help noticing how smoulderingly handsome Georg looked when truly irritated. Softly touching his free hand, she drew him out of his annoyance and, squeezing her fingers in response, he vowed to think no more about the Nazis and instead concentrate on showing Venice to his beautiful wife and family. _Which should be extremely pleasurable,_ he thought contentedly, gently toying with Maria's wedding band.

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	3. Arrival

**Saturday Evening**

By the time they had stopped for a late lunch on the Border and driven for another two hours on the Italian motorway, the light was slowly fading and a peaceful silence had settled inside the car. Georg grinned as he saw Louisa leaning on Friedrich's shoulder in his rear view mirror, both fast asleep, with peaceful expressions belying their usual clamour. Brigitta, as usual, was buried in a book, and Liesl was playing blackjack with Kurt, probably, Georg suspected from her pensive expression, letting him win easily.

Maria sighed dreamily as she watched the countryside speed by, admiring the picturesque little villages which dotted the sunburnt hills on either side of the road. Despite the onset of twilight, heat still rose from the asphalt of the motorway, giving the evening a shimmering, lustrous sparkle. Kissing Gretl's head softly, she smiled as the sleeping girl squeezed her hand in response.

'Mother,' said Marta suddenly, turning from her seat between Maria and Georg. 'Is that Venice, over there?'

Looking to where Marta was pointing, Maria saw faintly a twinkle of water, her heart rising in excitement.

'I think so, darling,' she replied softly, looking towards Georg for confirmation.

'Yes, Marta, you're absolutely right,' Georg said, patting his daughter's head with his free hand. 'We should be there in about another twenty minutes.'

The sleepy haze which enveloped the family quickly dissolved upon this announcement, with Kurt poking his head through the two front seats to catch a glimpse of the city, and Brigitta hurriedly shutting her book to look over her brother's shoulder.

'Ouch, Friedrich, I've got a crick in my neck from falling asleep next to you,' exclaimed Louisa, as Georg guided the car towards the city outskirts.

'Well my shoulder hurts from your pressing down on it,' retorted her brother half-irritably, unable to be truly annoyed when he could see the first of Venice's many canals streching before them.

'This is where we say goodbye to the car,' said Georg, swinging into a gravelled parking bay by the side of the waterway's main boarding point. Tightening the brake, he left the vehicle and walked around to Maria's door as the rest of the children tumbled noisily out of the back, glad to stretch their cramped legs.

'Welcome to Venice, Baroness,' he murmed gently as he helped her out, yearning once more to kiss her in the long hours since their last embrace at the villa.

'Thank you, Captain,' Maria replied as she reached his eye level, clasping his hand, 'I'm sure I'll enjoy this holiday very much.'

'Oh, I'm sure you will,' he replied deeply with a significant look, just as Brigitta tugged at this cuffs.

'Father, I think this man wants to see you,' she said, motioning towards the hesitant owner of the parking bay who had been loath to interrupt a couple so obviously in love.

'Ah, Signor Gianni,' Georg greeted the man with a firm handshake. 'I trust you received our reservation to leave the car here.' As the Venetian nodded, he continued, 'could you ensure please that our luggage is deposited at the Pensionne Carpaccio? We'll follow on by gondola.'

At this, squeals of excitement burst from the children, continuing as the family walked towards the pier to be greeted by a cheerful dark-haired gondolier, puffing a cigarette and tucking a grubby copy of the newspaper _Il Popolo d'Italia _into his navy waistcoat pocket.

'Signor Von Trapp, I'm Luciano,' he greeted Georg in Italian, 'please climb aboard and I'll escort you to your hotel.'

'What's he saying, Father?' asked Brigitta, as Georg lifted Marta and Gretl into the swaying gondola.

'Just that he'll take us to the hotel,' her father answered. 'I must teach you some Italian while we're here Brigitta,' he added, handing her into the boat, 'I'm sure you'd pick it up quickly.'

At this, the girl's eyes shone, strongly reminding Georg of Agathe, whose memory he was now able to cherish freely rather than repress in anguish. Climbing into the boat next to Maria – who was trying to persuade Kurt that leaning over the edge was not such a good idea – he signalled to Luciano to set off.

As the godolier pushed away from the shore with his single oar, Georg sighed in contentment. After so many years removed from the navy, he relished the feeling of the water beneath him, despite the obvious difference between a slim gondola and a thousand-tonne navy frigate, he reflected wryly.

Maria meanwhile gasped in awe as Luciano manoevred the boat into the Grand Canal, the sheer majesty of the city confronting her for the first time. The sun hung low on the western horizon, its last rays turning the waterways a rippling gold and enfolding the riverside palaces with a lucent glow. Reaching for Georg's hand, she felt as if she had stepped into a Canaletto masterpiece, a sensation compounded as the gondola slipped under the stunning Rialto bridge and glided by St. Mark's square, from whose many restaurants the light tinkle of music emanated.

'It's beautiful,' she breathed, slightly resting her head on Georg's shoulder in awe.

'You're beautiful,' he whispered back, brushing a stray tendril away from her face as he gazed at her in admiration, wanting nothing more than to wrap her in his arms as the sun's final rays disappeared, bathing the air a light indigo.

'I think we've arrived,' Liesl said, turning around to her parents with deliberate casualness, aware that they had been sharing an intimate moment in the rear of the gondola.

'Thank you Liesl,' said Maria with a smile as her husband took charge in helping the children onto wooden landing stage. Lifting Marta out into Georg's waiting arms, Maria stood up herself, noting with pleasure the golden, welcoming lanterns of the Pensionne Carpaccio.

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'All fast asleep,' remarked Maria contentedly, opening the hotel room door after kissing the children goodnight with Georg.

'Yes, even Brigitta,' he chuckled, striding towards the dressing table. 'And I don't know how Kurt could possibly stay awake after three helpings of panetonne.'

'Mmm,' Maria agreed, shrugging off her jacket. 'I just loved seeing the looks on Gretl and Marta's faces as we got into the gondola – they thought you were joking when you said we were leaving the car.'

'I loved seeing the look on your face,' called Georg as Maria walked towards the bathroom, longing to immerse herself in warm water after the tiring journey.

As she ran the taps, Georg busied himself round the room, sorting out the family's tickets for tomorrow's guided excursion of the city. Changing into his night attire, he glanced about the suite, noting with satisfaction the deep floral carpet, the brocaded cream curtains…the downy, kingsize bed. Deciding he could wait no longer, he strode into the steamy bathroom where his wife lay soaking, her eyes closed in peacefully. Quietly balancing on the edge of the bath, he leaned inwards, rousing Maria with a firm yet tender kiss, brimming with assured anticipation.

Reaching a bubbly hand up to his cheek, Maria responded with passion, her senses fully awakened by Georg's male scent and his insistent, lingering lips.

Smiling in their kiss, Georg reached for a towel with his free hand, slowly guiding Maria upwards into its fluffy warmth.

Unfolding her arms from around his neck as he set her down on the tiled floor, Maria deftly undid the buttons of Georg's pajama jacket, her hands tracing delicate patterns across his chest.

'I don't think you have any use for this, Captain,' she whispered, sliding the garment down his arms as he raised his eyebrows in mock wonderment.

Pleasantly surprised by his wife's directing role and increasingly aroused by the trail of fire she was branding on his chest, Georg scooped her up into his arms, smiling at her giggles.

'Your boudoir awaits, Baroness,' he murmured, gazing loving into her eyes, before he swept her into the bedroom where they zealously welcomed their beginning of their holiday.

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Afterwards, as the waters of the canal lapped gently beneath them, Maria lay collapsed atop Georg, quivering gently.

'Soon there'll be nothing left of me,' he whispered to her with a grin.

'Of _you_?' Maria purred. 'Not of you. We haven't even gotten to you yet.'

'Oh, we've gotten to me,' Georg replied softly. 'What, lovely? What, darling? What, Maria?'

'_You_, Georg,' she murmured. 'I can't move.'

'Don't move,' said Georg, tightening his arms around her. 'Don't do anything. I'll do it all.'

And, as he rolled over, the couple celebrated once more their arrival in the city aptly known as the 'Queen of the Adriatic'.

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	4. Palm Sunday

**Palm Sunday**

The gentle chime of church bells drew Maria from her contented sleep as she woke up to find the first streaks of dawn lightening the room. Stretching across for Georg, she blinked fully awake when her arm landed on the crumpled sheet where his warm chest should have been. Sighing at his absence, Maria realised that the faint tinkle of water permeating the room came not only from the canal but the hotel's connecting bathroom.

Rolling over, she idly contemplated joining her husband beneath the shower's warm cascade when Georg strode through the doorway, his hair sprinkled with little droplets of water, his mouth forming a typical half-smile as he saw her sit up in bed.

'I see you've woken up Baroness,' he murmured, entranced by how exquisite she appeared surrounded by the mass of downy blankets in the large four-poster.

'Yes, Captain, I have,' she whispered as he moved closer, 'only to find myself completely abandoned in this huge bed.'

'Well, I'm sure that's a situation that can easily be remedied,' he said lowly, his hands caressing her shoulders as she reached up to touch his face.

'And would you be so kind as to administer that remedy, Captain?'

'With pleasure, Fräulein,' he said with a grin, leaning down to bring his lips to hers. He chuckled as he heard her moan, her fingers slipping underneath his bathrobe.

'I love you,' she breathed, caressing his strong shoulder blades underneath the fluffy material.

Touched that she had sacrificed witticism for emotion, he stroked her hair tenderly, a fresh deluge of adoration sweeping through his veins.

'Maria…you'll never know…just how much I love you,' he whispered between kisses, gently guiding her towards the pillows as they exchanged morning 'greetings'.

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'And so we have here a spectacular series of twelfth century Byzantine mosaics, completed to the highest perfection to endow this ancient basilica. Note, please, ladies and gentlemen, the hieratic style of Byzantine decoration, the static, solemn figures and the stiff drapery, a theme which inspired Italian artists throughout the Middle Ages…,' the moustached guide explained, a crowd of restless tourists surrounding him.

Despite his love of art, Georg had to admit the man was bieng more than a little tedious, a fact demonstrated by Kurt's repeated shuffling from foot to foot and Friedrich's fiddling with his watch strap. Only Brigitta appeared completely entranced, frequently comparing something the guide had mentioned with her weighty guide book.

Maria, holding Gretl and Marta's hands, was almost as fascinated as Brigitta by the fine mosaics and wished that the Reverend Mother could be there to see them. Although married to Georg for three months, she looked back on her time at Nonnberg with affection, knowing that the wisdom the nuns had endowed her with would be of perennial value. And, of course, without the Reverend Mother she would have been too frightened to return after the ball, a thought which still had the capacity to make her tremble.

As these reflections floated through Maria's mind, she could glimpse Georg staring at her out of the corner of her eye. Patting their heads gently, she entrusted Liesl with Marta and Gretl – still clutching their palms from Mass that morning – and walked to stand beside her husband at the back of the crowd.

'I've never seen such beautiful mosaics, not even at Nonnberg,' she whispered, sliding her hand to rest in the crook of his arm.

'Mmm,' he replied distractedly, focusing not on the artwork but on a shaft of crimson light from the stained glass window which bathed Maria in a warm glow. 'Our guide is very, uh, detailed in his description, don't you think?'

'A little too detailed for Louisa and Friedrich it would seem,' she replied, motioning towards the siblings who were furtively engaging in a game of rock-paper-scissors, Louisa smiling with glee as she cut Friedrich's outstretched 'paper' with her 'scissors'.

'Yes, you're right' Georg concurred, raising his eyebrows slightly towards the pair, who immediately stopped playing, exchanging sheepish grins with their parents.

'So now, meinen Damen und Herren, would you please follow me outside where we will examine the Doge's Palace, a truly remarkable building in Italian Gothic with some early Renaissance elements,' the guide instructed, leading the group from the dusty church into the blinding spring sunshine of St. Mark's Square.

'Oh, Mother, that was the most beautiful church I've ever seen,' exclaimed Brigitta enthusiastically, slipping her hand into Maria's as they walked through the dim collonades surrounding the bustling piazza.

'I'm glad you liked it, Brigitta,' said Maria with a smile as the dark-haired girl bobbed at her waist level. 'Did you prefer the Byzantine mosaics or the stained glass windows?'

'Oh, she loved all of it, of course,' interjected Louisa. 'You could hardly tear your eyes away from that guide book, could you?' she teased her younger sister.

'Unlike some people who seemed to find other ways to amuse themselves,' inserted Georg pointedly, exchanging a quick smile with Maria as Brigitta attempted to defend Venetian art.

'Yes, but Father, he was going on and on,' interrupted Friedrich indignantly, 'even you must have been bored. And,' he added smugly, 'the game gave me an opportunity to beat Louisa five-four'.

'It was a draw and you know it,' retorted his sister, elbowing him in the ribs while Maria motioned for them to be quiet as the guide resumed his lecture.

'Rematch this afternoon,' muttered Louisa huffily as Brigitta busied herself finding the relevant page in her guide book.

'Prepare to be beaten all over again,' whispered Friedrich with an aggravating smile, dutifully turning towards the guide as Georg put a warning finger to his lips.

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'Mmm…a momentous decision is before us, Baroness,' said Georg, weighing up the two Easter eggs in his hands. 'Should we buy Marta the one with pink bows, which we know she likes, or the bunny shaped one with only blue bows?' He stroked his chin in mock-contemplation.

'Definitely the pink one,' said Maria, replacing the blue bunny firmly on the shelf. 'Pink's her favourite colour and, besides, the blue one is dark chocolate which she doesn't like.'

'My thoughts exactly,' replied Georg with a seriousness that belied the mischievous glint in his eye, as he added the egg to their already overflowing shopping basket. There was something incredibly rewarding, he felt, about doing a simple thing like buy Easter eggs for their children. Tightening his arm around Maria as they approached the counter, he gave thanks once again for her presence in his life, a joy he would have believed impossible little over a year ago and which he now could not contemplate living without.

'Uh, Georg, we need to pay,' said Maria gently, jerking him out of his reverie.

'Yes, yes, of course,' he murmured, writing out a cheque for the pile of Easter eggs before of a slightly bemused shopkeeper, confounded as to why the couple were buying such copious amounts of chocolate.

Seeing the man's furrowed brow, Georg decided to put him out of his misery and called, '_seven children_,' by way of explanation as he opened the patisserie door for Maria. And with a grin, he left the Venetian even more baffled, wondering how such a young woman could have produced seven offsping. It must have involved three sets of twins, he decided at last, pensively closing his cash register.

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'I suppose we'd better be getting back to the pensionne,' murmured Maria with a sigh as they stepped into the piazza, still bustling yet slightly less dazzling in the late afternoon light.

'Yes, I think Max has plans for the evening,' said Georg, pleased that his friend had managed to join them in Venice on account of some 'really quite promising' musical talent in the vicinity. His offer to look after the children for the afternoon was characterically generous and, Georg suspected from his wry grin, Max was also aware of the couple's need for some rare time alone.

Making towards a stone seat beside St. Mark's basilica, they sat down contentedly, Maria moulding herself into Georg's chest as they watched the colourful crowds pass by.

'Maria,' Georg murmured, his lips brushing her air, becoming increasingly entranced by the sweetness which seemed to emanate from her, 'I'd like to give you something.'

Turning around to face him, Maria reached up to tenderly brush a stray strand of hair from his forehead. 'You've already given me so much', she whispered. 'You and the children.'

'I'll never be able to give you enough,' replied Georg lovingly, reaching into his gray jacket pocket to bring out a rectangular object, wrapped in white tissue paper.

Obediently taking it, Maria slowly undid the ribbon, her eyes never leaving his face.

'Go on,' he urged, eager to see her reaction.

Brushing aside the paper, Maria's eyes filled with tears as she beheld the wedding photograph. Surrounded by a gilded frame, the cheerful faces of her entire family were smiling beneath the glass, the children circled around her and Georg as they emerged from Nonnberg Abbey amidst a shower of confetti.

'I finally got it back from the photographer,' he explained, tightening his arms about her waist.

Unable to reply, she was so touched, Maria leaned in to kiss him. He responded with passion, cupping his hand around her neck as they found renewed joy in each other, oblivious to the smiles of passers-by. Gently breaking the kiss, Georg draped his arm around Maria's shoulders as they stared afresh at the photograph, Marta and Gretl as flower girls, Liesl the perfect bridesmaid, Kurt standing proudly beside his father…

'Georg, how can I ever thank you?' whispered Maria moments later, her gaze settling on her husband in full naval uniform, visor tucked under his arm, sword by his side.

'Oh, I can think of ways, darling,' he replied with a grin.

Elbowing him indignantly, she could not help giggling as they began to stroll towards the glimmering Grand Canal, their laughing figures sillouetted in the Venetian twilight.

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End file.
